Inside the Journey: One Artist's Relentless Pursuit of Earthen Beauty
Pat with "The Water-Bearer's Jar" (sold).
The first question people ask me when looking at my art is generally “You call your studio Bristlecone
Pottery – but this doesn’t look like pottery to me. Is it sculpture?” That’s a fine line – artists who work in
clay might distinguish the two by saying that if it serves a functional purpose, it’s pottery. If its purpose
is simply to be beautiful or thought-provoking, call it sculpture.
One of the galleries who has represented me neatly solved it thus: Pat is a sculptor whose frame of reference is the vessel.
My fascination with clay began 55 years ago in college, where I learned wheel throwing and cone 10
reduction firing techniques from Henry Mead at the University of Colorado in Boulder. That style of work
carried me for about 8 years, until my “day job” ate my life, including all of what I laughingly called my
spare time. Then my studio days became a fond memory. For a while.
But at age 40, my parallel fascinations with geology, archaeology and pottery converged. I joined a 2-
week “rediscovery study” at Crow Canyon Archaeology Center in Cortez, Colorado, where 14 amateur
participants gathered with 2 well-known Pueblo potters, the archaeology staff of Crow Canyon, famed
southwestern archaeologist Florence Lister and preeminent ceramic typologist Stewart Peckham to
attempt to unravel the mystery of Chaco Canyon black-on-white ware. These thin-walled white clay
vessels with refined black mineral paint decoration, fired to a reasonably high temperature, characterize
the peak of Chacoan development, circa 1075-1150 AD. Not long after, the enormous Chaco dwelling
area was abandoned. I couldn’t rest until I found out what the clay would tell me!
“Alabaster Lilly” on display at Rivertown Gallery
We searched in vain for the white clay. Several other color options were exposed in the many stream
banks surrounding Cortez and Mesa Verde, but none was white. After 3 days of hunting, we settled for a
light buff-colored clay, knowing it was not the correct choice, but we had other criteria to examine –
paint and firing. Those experiments went far better, entirely due to the expertise of the two Pueblo
potters, one from Santa Clara and the other from Jimez pueblo in New Mexico, since they use similar
techniques to this day. So, the class built experimental bowls, decorated them and consigned them to a
pit firing, which was successful but didn’t solve the fundamental problem – the white clay. We agreed to
meet again next summer if no progress was made otherwise and try again.
Somewhat demoralized, I drove home to Colorado Springs. As I neared my home, I turned at a corner
marked by a deep road cut through an interesting exposure of what turned out to be the Laramie
Formation, deposited when there had been an inland sea running east-west across the proto-north
American continent. I glanced admiringly at this familiar landmark, seen every day on my drives to and
from work, and realized with a jolt that among the colored bands was WHITE CLAY!
Equipped as I was with a bucket and trowel, a bottle of water and a geologic map of Colorado, I parked
and attacked the white band of clay, wetting it down and rolling out a thin coil. The standard field test
for plasticity, the primary characteristic of useable clay, is to roll a coil around your index finger. If it
doesn’t crack, it’s good enough to use. No cracks ! I had clay! Checking the map, I found my location was
a cut across the Laramie Formation in the late Cretaceous era. The inland sea had covered most of
Colorado’s midsection and south then, so I looked westward to the Chaco area and found a similar
formation called the Mesa Verde Formation, with all the same layers in reverse – except the band of
coal. From the map, it looked like an exposure of this formation should be visible in McElmo Canyon, a
couple of miles further up stream of our search area. I went home and called Crow Canyon and told them
what I’d found. They soon went out to hunt and yes, white clay was evident there.
“Peace Rose” Ginger Jar, on display at Rivertown Gallery
I happily dug a bucket-load of clay out of the bank near my home, made test pieces, and called a college friend who had
become a professional potter to ask if he’d test-fire some of my samples. After some cajoling, he agreed
and within a few days, I had fired test pieces that proved this was, indeed, great, clean white clay.
I built several pieces using the coil method (which I use to this day), the same technique used by Pueblo
potters and the ancients and fired them with my college friend in his large gas kiln. That’s where my
style diverged from what I had learned at Crow Canyon. I really do enjoy hand-building, so have retained
that, but as far as imitating other native techniques, I simply don’t do it. For about two years I happily
built, fired and sold everything I could find time to make. Skills developed, along with a portfolio of work
– and then once again, my day job claimed every bit of my time and my studio fell into disuse. And I
married a very dear friend whom I’d known for 20 years. It was a blessed time.
In 2015 when we decided we could afford to retire, we were determined to move to a small town and
relocated from Colorado Springs to Buena Vista, squarely in the middle of Colorado, surrounded by
magnificent 14,000’ peaks. But no clay. I had decided my new job would be in the clay direction, so
every few months we drove back to the area on the edge of the Colorado inland sea in Colorado Springs
and dug as many buckets full of clay as we could load in my car and lugged it back to Buena Vista. I
experimented with various firing techniques and determined that one called Fumed Saggar Firing
provided the right balance of range of color results, random kiln effects and plenty of room for
innovation. My work was off to a very good start with three galleries to represent me when to my horror
I found I had cancer. A bad one. After surgery and a grueling 6 months of chemotherapy and lots and
lots of prayer, it looked like I would be OK. I had promised the Lord I would dedicate my work to Him if
He saw fit to let me live, and so it has been. Since each of my pieces comes with a story, you will see if
you look at the names and comments on my web site that everyone marks a step closer to using my
work to His glory.
In 2022 Bob and I determined we needed to get him to a lower elevation quickly since his 3-year stint as
a Marine in Vietnam had left his lungs very badly damaged by Agent Orange. After a serious on-line
hunt, we settled on Bull Shoals, Arkansas and bought a house here (sight unseen!). The white clay is
much further from home – near Malvern, AR, about a 4-hour drive – but still accessible. Same formation
by a different name, in the delta area of the Cretaceous Inland Sea!
So that is my job and my joy. Despite losing my beloved husband in August of 2023, I find a lot of
comfort in the clay. It’s kind of ironic, really, that my highest aspiration now is to create beauty in the
lowliest artform mentioned in the Bible – pottery. And it will always be a blessing. I’m delighted and
grateful to be showing my work in Duane Hada’s Rivertown Gallery!
Visit Pat’s website here to learn more about her art form!
